Journey into the Interior of the Earth

Chapter XI

A Guide Found to the Centre of the Earth

In the evening I took a short walk on the beach and
returned at night to my plank-bed, where I slept soundly all night.

When I awoke I heard my uncle talking at a great rate in the next room. I
immediately dressed and joined him.

He was conversing in the Danish language with a tall man, of robust
build. This fine fellow must have been possessed of great strength. His
eyes, set in a large and ingenuous face, seemed to me very intelligent;
they were of a dreamy sea-blue. Long hair, which would have been called
red even in England, fell in long meshes upon his broad shoulders. The
movements of this native were lithe and supple; but he made little use of
his arms in speaking, like a man who knew nothing or cared nothing about
the language of gestures. His whole appearance bespoke perfect calmness
and self-possession, not indolence but tranquillity. It was felt at once
that he would be beholden to nobody, that he worked for his own
convenience, and that nothing in this world could astonish or disturb his
philosophic calmness.

I caught the shades of this Icelander's character by the way in which he
listened to the impassioned flow of words which fell from the Professor.
He stood with arms crossed, perfectly unmoved by my uncle's incessant
gesticulations. A negative was expressed by a slow movement of the head
from left to right, an affirmative by a slight bend, so slight that his
long hair scarcely moved. He carried economy of motion even to parsimony.

Certainly I should never have dreamt in looking at this man that he was a
hunter; he did not look likely to frighten his game, nor did he seem as
if he would even get near it. But the mystery was explained when M.
Fridrikssen informed me that this tranquil personage was only a hunter of
the eider duck, whose under plumage constitutes the chief wealth of the
island. This is the celebrated eider down, and it requires no great
rapidity of movement to get it.

Early in summer the female, a very pretty bird, goes to build her nest
among the rocks of the fiords with which the coast is fringed. After
building the nest she feathers it with down plucked from her own breast.
Immediately the hunter, or rather the trader, comes and robs the nest,
and the female recommences her work. This goes on as long as she has any
down left. When she has stripped herself bare the male takes his turn to
pluck himself. But as the coarse and hard plumage of the male has no
commercial value, the hunter does not take the trouble to rob the nest of
this; the female therefore lays her eggs in the spoils of her mate, the
young are hatched, and next year the harvest begins again.

Now, as the eider duck does not select steep cliffs for her nest, but
rather the smooth terraced rocks which slope to the sea, the Icelandic
hunter might exercise his calling without any inconvenient exertion. He
was a farmer who was not obliged either to sow or reap his harvest, but
merely to gather it in.

This grave, phlegmatic, and silent individual was called Hans Bjelke; and
he came recommended by M. Fridrikssen. He was our future guide. His
manners were a singular contrast with my uncle's.

Nevertheless, they soon came to understand each other. Neither looked at
the amount of the payment: the one was ready to accept whatever was
offered; the other was ready to give whatever was demanded. Never was
bargain more readily concluded.

The result of the treaty was, that Hans engaged on his part to conduct us
to the village of Stapi, on the south shore of the Snæfell peninsula, at
the very foot of the volcano. By land this would be about twenty-two
miles, to be done, said my uncle, in two days.

But when he learnt that the Danish mile was 24,000 feet long, he was
obliged to modify his calculations and allow seven or eight days for the
march.

Four horses were to be placed at our disposal—two to carry him and me,
two for the baggage. Hams, as was his custom, would go on foot. He knew
all that part of the coast perfectly, and promised to take us the
shortest way.

His engagement was not to terminate with our arrival at Stapi; he was to
continue in my uncle's service for the whole period of his scientific
researches, for the remuneration of three rixdales a week (about twelve
shillings), but it was an express article of the covenant that his wages
should be counted out to him every Saturday at six o'clock in the
evening, which, according to him, was one indispensable part of the
engagement.

The start was fixed for the 16th of June. My uncle wanted to pay the
hunter a portion in advance, but he refused with one word:

“Efter,” said he.

“After,” said the Professor for my edification.

The treaty concluded, Hans silently withdrew.

“A famous fellow,” cried my uncle; “but he little thinks of the
marvellous part he has to play in the future.”

“So he is to go with us as far as—”

“As far as the centre of the earth, Axel.”

Forty-eight hours were left before our departure; to my great regret I
had to employ them in preparations; for all our ingenuity was required to
pack every article to the best advantage; instruments here, arms there,
tools in this package, provisions in that: four sets of packages in all.

The instruments were:

1. An Eigel's centigrade thermometer, graduated up to 150 degrees (302
degrees Fahr.), which seemed to me too much or too little. Too much if
the internal heat was to rise so high, for in this case we should be
baked, not enough to measure the temperature of springs or any matter in
a state of fusion.

2. An aneroid barometer, to indicate extreme pressures of the atmosphere.
An ordinary barometer would not have answered the purpose, as the
pressure would increase during our descent to a point which the mercurial
barometer1 would not register.

3. A chronometer, made by Boissonnas, jun., of Geneva, accurately set to
the meridian of Hamburg.

4. Two compasses, viz., a common compass and a dipping needle.

5. A night glass.

6. Two of Ruhmkorff's apparatus, which, by means of an electric current,
supplied a safe and handy portable light2

The arms consisted of two of Purdy's rifles and two brace of pistols. But
what did we want arms for? We had neither savages nor wild beasts to
fear, I supposed. But my uncle seemed to believe in his arsenal as in his
instruments, and more especially in a considerable quantity of gun
cotton, which is unaffected by moisture, and the explosive force of which
exceeds that of gunpowder.

The tools comprised two pickaxes, two spades, a silk ropeladder, three
iron-tipped sticks, a hatchet, a hammer, a dozen wedges and iron spikes,
and a long knotted rope. Now this was a large load, for the ladder was
300 feet long.

And there were provisions too: this was not a large parcel, but it was
comforting to know that of essence of beef and biscuits there were six
months' consumption. Spirits were the only liquid, and of water we took
none; but we had flasks, and my uncle depended on springs from which to
fill them. Whatever objections I hazarded as to their quality,
temperature, and even absence, remained ineffectual.

To complete the exact inventory of all our travelling accompaniments, I
must not forget a pocket medicine chest, containing blunt scissors,
splints for broken limbs, a piece of tape of unbleached linen, bandages
and compresses, lint, a lancet for bleeding, all dreadful articles to
take with one. Then there was a row of phials containing dextrine,
alcoholic ether, liquid acetate of lead, vinegar, and ammonia drugs which
afforded me no comfort. Finally, all the articles needful to supply
Ruhmkorff's apparatus.

My uncle did not forget- a supply of tobacco, coarse grained powder, and
amadou, nor a leathern belt in which he carried a sufficient quantity of
gold, silver, and paper money. Six pairs of boots and shoes, made
waterproof with a composition of indiarubber and naphtha, were packed
amongst the tools.

“Clothed, shod, and equipped like this,” said my uncle, “there is no
telling how far we may go.”

The 14th was wholly spent in arranging all our different articles. In the
evening we dined with Baron Tramps; the mayor of Rejkiavik, and Dr.
Hyaltalin, the first medical man of the place, being of the party. M.
Fridrikssen was not there. I learned afterwards that he and the Governor
disagreed upon some question of administration, and did not speak to each
other. I therefore knew not a single word of all that was said at this
semi-official dinner; but I could not help noticing that my uncle talked
the whole time.

On the 15th our preparations were all made. Our host gave the Professor
very great pleasure by presenting him with a map of Iceland far more
complete than that of Hendersen. It was the map of M. Olaf Nikolas Olsen,
in the proportion of 1 to 480,000 of the actual size of the island, and
published by the Icelandic Literary Society. It was a precious document
for a mineralogist.

Our last evening was spent in intimate conversation with M. Fridrikssen,
with whom I felt the liveliest sympathy; then, after the talk, succeeded,
for me, at any rate, a disturbed and restless night.

At five in the morning I was awoke by the neighing and pawing of four
horses under my window. I dressed hastily and came down into the street.
Hans was finishing our packing, almost as it were without moving a limb;
and yet he did his work cleverly. My uncle made more noise than
execution, and the guide seemed to pay very little attention to his
energetic directions.

At six o'clock our preparations were over. M. Fridrikssen shook hands
with us. My uncle thanked him heartily for his extreme kindness. I
constructed a few fine Latin sentences to express my cordial farewell.
Then we bestrode our steeds and with his last adieu M. Fridrikssen
treated me to a line of Virgil eminently applicable to such uncertain
wanderers as we were likely to be:

“Et quacumque viam dedent fortuna sequamur.”

“Therever fortune clears a way,

Thither our ready footsteps stray.”

In M. Verne's book a ‘manometer’ is the
instrument used, of which very little is known. In a complete list of
philosophical instruments the translator cannot find the name. As he is
assured by a first-rate instrument maker, Chadburn, of Liverpool, that
an aneroid can be constructed to measure any depth, he has thought it
best to furnish the adventurous professor with this more familiar
instrument. The 'manometer' is generally known as a pressure
gauge.—TRANS.

Ruhmkorff's apparatus consists of a Bunsen
pile worked with bichromate of potash, which makes no smell; an
induction coil carries the electricity generated by the pile into
communication with a lantern of peculiar construction; in this lantern
there is a spiral glass tube from which the air has been excluded, and
in which remains only a residuum of carbonic acid gas or of nitrogen.
When the apparatus is put in action this gas becomes luminous,
producing a white steady light. The pile and coil are placed in a
leathern bag which the traveller carries over his shoulders; the
lantern outside of the bag throws sufficient light into deep darkness;
it enables one to venture without fear of explosions into the midst of
the most inflammable gases, and is not extinguished even in the deepest
waters. M. Ruhmkorff is a learned and most ingenious man of science;
his great discovery is his induction coil, which produces a powerful
stream of electricity. He obtained in 1864 the quinquennial prize of
50,000 franc reserved by the French government for the most ingenious
application of electricity.